Mass Effect: Subject Wanderer
by Ragingceliac
Summary: When the Lone Wanderer's coup failed aboard Mothership Zeta, he was spared while the rest of his team was killed. Yet when the Zeta gets an order to protect a group studying a newly-discovered element known as 'Element Zero', it gets sucked into a black hole and into an alternate timeline: one where humanity didn't destroy itself, and hasn't been discovered by the Milky Way yet...
1. Chapter 1

**Captain Talc Drenada** rested his three-fingered hand against his disproportionate cranium. The green-skinned digits ran the fresh scar that decorated his right cheek as his cheek as he sighed. Their most recent acquisitions from Earth had been most troublesome.

They'd tried - and failed, as he'd predicted - to overthrow him. Tal'c had to grudgingly admit that their leader had had significant adaptability; the leader of the group, a human male, had scavenged and used their weapons and own technology against Talc and his crew. He'd killed at least four dozen of Talc's security forces, along with disabling or destroying countless turrets. His companions had mostly been ineffective in combat, with the one his crew had found during the nineteenth century second to the leader, though the woman could have made a applicable engineer had Talc allowed her to learn his species' technology. Not that that would be likely, though.

He leaned back in his captain's chair, listening for a moment as maintenance drones repaired the systems and computers that had been damaged in the humans' attack. All of the attacking group had been killed except the leader. He was to be moved to bio research; Talc hoped that his fellow zetans', with their ability to modify the genome of themselves and other organisms, could be used to assist in a further development of the human's body and mind - for Talc's purposes of course.

The human, whose name was "Adam", had proved himself to be more capable than Talc's own head of security. Thray would never admit it, if he survived the wounds Adam had inflicted upon him, that he'd been beaten. Talc knew that fact, though. He let his right hand fall to his side, and rest against the armrest of his captain's chair.

"Sir, security admin Thray has recovered from his wounds inflicted upon him by the big uglies," talc spun his chair to address the inferior zetan messenger. Their blue jumpsuit distinguished them as a medicinal technician. Talc saw their stiff, professional stance and nodded in approval.

"Yes, I would like to see Thray; is he bound to an operating table for the moment?" The medical technician nodded crisply; a moment's hesitation would have stained their reputation among their strict and endlessly pragmatic brethren. Talc felt an amused smirk tug at the lines of his thin-lipped mouth.

"I see. I presume he will be back to work soon enough?" He asked. The medical tech gave another crisp nod. Talc waited for them to elaborate, an expectant gaze leveled at his inferior. In slight embarrassment, the medical tech said,

"Would you like to know the nature of the injuries security admin Thray has sustained?" talc nodded.

"He had several burst blood vessels in his abdomen and had several… what do the big uglies call them?" The medical tech thought for a moment, before remembering the human term. "bullets." They said, before continuing. "He had several bullets that had flattened inside his digestive tract. He will likely be inapplicable to his position for three dozen stellar days." talc's eyes narrowed in disgust.

"Savages," he murmured. The medical technician stood patiently for a few moments, still at stiff attention. Talc, at the moment, was submersed in thoughts; humanity had had a nuclear war - how did they have ammunition with hollow points still? That meant that in the two centuries since twenty seventy-seven, they would have to have been making more of it. Unless they _really_ had produced that many bullets before their nuclear war. That left the only logical conclusion: they were reviving their industry.

"Is something wrong, superior captain Drenada?" talc opened his lidded eyes and shook his head.

"No, inferior medical technician." The inferior zetan's eyes were patient, but in tandem held urgency.

"You can leave." The superior zetan said with a dismissive wave. The medical technician nodded, giving an expected 'thank you superior captain.' and going to the nearest teleporter. They selected the medical wing of Talc's mothership and disappeared in a flash of golden light.

Talc was now alone. He rose from his captain's chair, ignoring the sound of his suction-cupped fingers as they were moved from said chair. His own jumpsuit, one of garish chrome, shined as his ship's fluorescent light reflected off it. The reflection off freshly-polished floors and walls made the zetan engineers that worked alongside the maintenance drones cringe internally.

Talc closed the door to his quarters with a press of the repaired touchpad that had been reinstalled after the attempted human overthrow. How such a self-destructive species had even gotten so close to him was a testament to how dangerous they were. They were far more violent than any race the zetans had come across. Not only that, but also tenacious and, as Adam had showed, very quick to adapt new technology. The apex of this ideal was a civilization that had risen and fell long before the zetans had come and learned about from the history enthusiasts they'd captured from Earth's greatest peninsula - a mass called 'Europe'. Talc thought for a moment, then remembered the civilization's name:

Rome.

The thought of romanesque humans with zetan weapons made Tal'c shiver. The romans had shown their adaptability in a war with another long-dead civilization called 'Carthage'. Carthage had had a greater navy that the romans had adopted when they fought each other in three wars called the 'Punic Wars'. If human lore was to be believed, that is.

Talc had an extensive knowledge of the various human empires and non-empires of the species' history - it was required of each zetan captain of a mothership to know the history of each race that mothership was assigned to so they could develop plans for eventual invasion around it. Why Talc's ancestors hadn't invaded in the nearly six centuries since they'd discovered Earth baffled him. He mused that Earth wasn't rich enough in resources to warrant an invasion fleet to arrive from the homeworld. Still, Talc was sure that when the time to invade did come, that the invading fleet would find humanity a comparable opponent.

Thray was proof that they were.

* * *

Talc strode into the medical wing of his mothership, respectfully acknowledging each inferior he passed as they stood to attention when he passed them. He smiled slightly as he made his way to Thray; he'd been drafted into the zetan navy as soon as he was eligible. Over a decade and a half he'd proven his mettle against the races that had once opposed the zetans. Now those races were subjugated, each with its own rebellion simmering just below what the zetans could legally crack down on. Each side knew that rebellion existed, but the zetans couldn't do anything about the more intelligent guerilla groups; to do so would be to feed the propaganda of the other rebel factions in their empire's grasp.

Of course the rebels stupid enough to reveal themselves were martyred upon their destruction. Of the peoples the zetans had conquered, the Q'uan were easily the most similar to humanity: they were reptilian bipeds with a similar temperament to humans, and the most recently conquered species of the zetans. If Talc ever received the notification that an invasion fleet was coming for humanity, he hoped he wouldn't be stationed at Earth to oversee it. An alliance between the Q'uan and humanity was an unsettling thought for the zetan.

Talc made his way through the crowded medical wing; there wasn't any moans or screams of the wounded now. All those wounded by the attempted human coup, as per procedure, were given an intense pain suppressor before they were transferred to the medical wing and given another dose of the same suppressor before the first dose wore off when they arrived - again, as per procedure. Medicinal technicians bustled about, taking pulse tests of the wounded - those that weren't back on duty, that was - and using the touchpads and multi-floor comms to request what they needed; mainly bio med-gel, but in the more extreme cases of the humans' brutality, even prosthetics.

 _Prosthetics,_ Talc thought in disgust, _it is proof that my security wasn't up to par. Otherwise we wouldn't have to be using transteel on mechanical limbs,_ Most of those who needed prosthetics went up against Adam directly; with their diminutive stature in comparison to humans, he'd broken arms and flat-out thrown some of the security forces across rooms. Talc felt a small amount of pity for those who needed prosthetics; their name would be tarnished until they proved themselves once again. Still, on a more pragmatic note, those who needed prosthetics would likely work harder - meaning more order and less trouble for him. _I suppose everything has a silver lining,_ Talc thought, mentally reciting the human idiom.

Finally, after several stellar minutes of weaving through the medical wing, Tal'c found Thray. He was, indeed, bound to an operating table, except it had been outfitted with small comforts for easier resting of the head and neck. Thray's green skin was a shade paler, and he immediately snapped open his lidded eyes when he realised his captain was near. He stiffened as much as he could, despite the shaking that his damaged muscles were doing. Tal'c gave a nod of approval before saying:

"At ease, security admin." And Thray, whose shaking told volumes of his physical condition, laid back against the soft, flexible plastic that was positioned perfectly to catch his neck and head.

"I'm here to congratulate you on dismantling of that human rebellion," talc said, a drip of condescension in his voice, "I hope your recovery is going well." thray gave a weak nod to that, rasping out,

"Thank you, superior captain Drenada," The security admin said, "My recovery is slow, but steady." talc nodded.

"Who has been caring for you? I believe they ought to deserve a promotion," thray tilted his head to the side as much as he could without snapping his spindly neck.

"Really, superior captain Talc? You normally don't give promotions," thray noted. Talc frowned.

"Are you questioning me, inferior security admin?" thray shook his head, again careful not to stress his neck too much.

"Of course not, superior captain. I was just noting that you were suggesting to promote the medical technician who was caring for me; he is apprenticed to the medical admin, after all." talc's pure black eyes showed surprise.

"Really?"

"Yes, sir. Though now that I consider it, I would likely do the same in your position; I am of the belief that you'd be in far more serious danger than I would be," talc shook his hairless head, indignation bubbling up.

"That may be true, inferior security admin, yet you would have failed in your position were that the case." thray's eyes bulged for a moment, then settled back to their normal size.

"Of course, superior captain." tal'c internally felt satisfaction, yet pushed it all out of his voice as he spoke.

"So, security admin - who will be taking your position as you recover?" thray responded fast enough that Talc was sure that he'd already decided on the topic long before he'd come.

"Inferior security secretary Gradgno," thray didn't pronounce the 'g' of his assistant's name. Tal'c would have, yet Thray came didn't come from the homeworld. He'd come from a colony called Triniyaft. The residents of Triniyaft developed their own dialect of the zetan language, and one Talc disliked heavily.

"A good choice," talc said. "Gradgno has always served you well." thray nodded, his normally sour face contorting into a small smile.

"He has, superior captain. I'm proud of him." talc frowned again; having that much confidence in another's abilities - the abilities of an inferior, no less! - was dangerous.

"For your and his sakes, security admin, I hope you are correct."

* * *

 **Three days later…**

Talc looked around the now fully-repaired bridge, satisfied that all evidence of the

humans' attempted coup was now gone. He surveyed Earth one final time before he gave the order:

"Bridge crew, prepare the FTL drivers." A chorus of flicking switches and light humming as machines came to life met Talc's ears. Talc's bridge crew was hand-picked by him personally, each technician and engineer in the room the absolute best his mothership was able to produce. They were shining examples of zetan efficiency; each of the two-dozen strong bridge crew worked in perfect tandem with their coworkers. They, to an outside observer, may have seemed telepathic.

They weren't, of course, but Talc's strict approval process did a good job of making them seem that way. Within thirty seconds, the FTL drivers were prepared.

"Navigators, plot a course for Torsiv VI." Another chorus or switches being flicked and levers and knobs being adjusted met Talc's small yet receptive ears. Soon enough, one of the navigators turned their chair to face Talc.

"The coordinates are set, superior captain." talc gave an approving incline of his head and the navigator turned their chair to face their console. He pressed the button affixed to his captain's chair that transmitted his voice through all his mothership's multi-level comms.

 _"Crew of the_ Zeta _, this is your captain speaking; we are entering FTL space. Be forewarned of any potential risks this may pose."_

Talc lifted the green-skinned digit pressing down on the button and let it rest against the chair proper. He allowed himself to lean back slightly; the order to move to a different system had come only twelve stellar hours earlier, which sent him and his crew to a planet perilously close to a black hole that was incredibly rich in a newly discovered resource the scientific members of the zetan race were identifying as 'Element Zero'.

Talc shook his head. His mothership was sent there to protect the scientific vessels that had already arrived. The planet had been identified and its' position mapped several stellar years beforehand, yet it took a scouting ship to find the new element. It was, to Talc at least, a shock that there was an element the zetans, with all the combined knowledge of over a dozen species, had not discovered. Yet, much like that human, Adam, the universe had surprised.

Talc watched as his mothership turned away from Earth and humanity's system and in the direction of the new system. The space around the _Zeta_ warped for a few moments before becoming a haze of blue and white lines that signified one had entered FTL space.

Now he had to wait. Talc knew he couldn't let himself fall asleep: it'd set a poor example for his crew. He was aware that many an engineer took impromptu nap on the job on his mothership. The term a human would've used for the situation was irony.

Talc sat for two hours, allowing his mind to drift to the female zetans on his ship until a navigator's voice cut into his fantasies.

"Superior captain, we are nearing Torsiv VI." talc immediately straightened, squaring his sad shoulders and giving an approving grunt signifying that he'd heard the navigator. Fifteen minutes passed as Talc fell once again into explicit fantasies before he was snapped out again when alarms began blaring. He physically jumped in his captain's chair at then.

"Navigator! What has happened?!" tal'c demanded, having to stretch his vocal cords to scream above the alarms. The navigators didn't immediately respond, though after a few moments one of them shakily cried:

"Our maps were off, superior captain! We've flown straight into the black hole Torsiv VI orbits!" They shouted, too having to strain their vocal cords. Talc could see the gasses and star remnants that orbited Torsiv IV's black hole. He was, for a moment, mesmerized by the display, as were several of the bridge technicians. The bridge navigators, though, were scrambling to divert energy to the _Zeta_ 's engines.

"Permission to divert all unnecessary power to engines?!" One of the navigators shouted.

"Permission granted!" talc shouted back, snapping out of his trance and activating his ship-wide comm.

 _"This is your superior captain speaking! Do not panic! We have simply ran into some turbulence!"_ talc shouted into the comm. He hoped his voice was reassuring, because he certainly wasn't reassured at the moment. The _Zeta_ was heading for the black hole's eye at an alarming rate. Tal'c's heart was pounding as, even as the lights dimmed as power was diverted to the engines, the _Zeta_ continued to barrel towards the center of the black hole. The rest of the bridge crew had gathered themselves by that point, and were working frantically to help. Not that it mattered, Talc knew.

He was going to die.

There was no way around it: his ship didn't have the engines to overcome a black hole's grip. _No_ zetan ship had that capability, in fact. Even as his bridge crew worked at full capacity to stop it, they couldn't. Soon enough they could see the event horizon; the precipice of what would lead to Talc's destruction.

"It's been an honor to be your superior captain," He murmured.

* * *

 **AN: So… that was interesting. I hope you enjoyed reading that. If this story gets enough support - or even if it doesn't, probably. - I'll post more chapters.** **Any reviews/follows/favorites will be duly and merrily noted. - Raging Celiac**


	2. Chapter 2

Haliata Terphits studied her statistics with a zeal most aboard the _Zeta_ would've thought unhealthy. The numbers and graphs changed at least every day, with the normally positive exception of the machine they had linked to their subject's heart - when she didn't have them drugged and mindlessly running on a human treadmill, that was. She wanted most to curve upward, though; those were statistics like strength, cardiovascular efficiency, reaction times, and overall swiftness. Those, she had promised herself three days earlier, were going to rise and continue rising.

Of course, her human subject was different; most captured after the species' nuclear war had significantly more likely to be illiterate in the dozens of different languages Earth harbored. her subject exhibited certain qualities in significantly more quantities than the others the had captured; foremost among them cunning and adaptability. This was coupled with an intelligent and spry mind, along with a certain quality:

Their vocal cords were missing.

Humans used vocal cords to speak and yell the various languages they'd created, and while most at some point in their lives had 'Lost' their voice, Haliata had never seen a more literal embodiment of that saying. This human, though, had been another group's test subject; in place of their natural vocal cords, which had been cut with machine-like precision upon Haliata's inspection, were an artificial recreation of vocal cords. It was more advanced than any pre-war human prosthetics that had been encountered by Haliata's predecessors, which had been limited, seemingly, to arms, legs, and even eyes. The artificial vocal cords were either found in a pre-war cache, or, more disturbingly, Haliata had entertained the thought that some humans were technologically advancing in spite of a nuclear apocalypse.

She had, of course, removed them immediately, and put them in a marked box in her laboratory. She didn't allow anybody else to touch them until Talc had 'Asked' her to with a five-man squad of security officers. She knew she wouldn't get thrown off of the _Zeta_ ; she knew that all of the leaders that could get her thrown out - which was in reality only Talc - were attracted to her. And that compounding that fact was the truth that no one on the _Zeta_ could match her in a bout of wits.

So she'd been allowed to continue experimenting, and even, after a failed coup, got access to a most interesting specimen: a human named Adam. The human male went by other names; The Scourge of Raiders, Herald of Tranquility, The Last, Best Hope for Humanity. But the most sensational and permanent name Adam went by was Lone Wanderer.

And truly, in a radioactive wasteland, he had been all of those things.

Yet, for reasons contained in logs that were still being analyzed, he'd turned on those who looked to him for hope. Turned on them and helped impose a authoritarian regime that oppressed rise and crush any and all opposition. _No wonder Talc wants him on his side,_ Haliata thought with a shake of her head.

Haliata's line of thought stopped when the console in front of her abruptly shut off. Her graphs and charts disappeared in an instant, and she was momentarily stunned. The blue light that had illuminated her face was gone in a second. All of her assistants looked around and then to her, all silently asking what happened with their eyes. Then every zetan's eyes went to the only cryogenic pod as it began emitting hisses indicative of it's door opening. And it did, spilling the frigid gases it held back... along with it's subject.

* * *

Talc blinked slowly, large eyelids moving languidly. The lights of the Zeta were dimmed, their ruby, emergency as-per-procedure glow reflected off the floors and walls and in Talc's now-opening eyes. His captain's chair had been ripped from it's bolts on the floor. It was on it's left side, leaving Talc's head to rest against the cold floor of the bridge. His arms were hugging his frame in an instinctive motion that had broken through Talc's military discipline.

 _Am I dead?_

By this point Talc had his eyes open completely; his bridge was in complete disarray. Technician's chairs were separated from their bolts, as well; they all laid on their left side, with their occupants in various states of injury. Some were unmoving, while others moaned in pain; a single zetan was already on their feet, moving amongst their comrades to assist in any way possible - which wasn't much, considering that they weren't medical technicians. One of them approached Talc's form, kneeling down to his level.

"Superior captain Talc, are you able to hear me?" Their voice was quiet, yet it somehow seemed strained. In the red light, Talc saw several green blotches on their brown navigator's jumpsuit. He nodded, grasping their shoulder for support as he struggled to stand; one of his ankles was twisted at an unnatural angle. Still, the superior zetan stood on his own, brushing the pain it caused to the recesses of his shaken mind.

"Inferior navigator, what is the status of your compatriots?" he rasped, putting as much authority into his voice as he could. The inferior zetan took a moment to respond, looking worriedly back to the large navigation console that they worked.

"I believe that fifty percent of my navigators are inapplicable for their positions at the moment," they said slowly, and Talc saw water at the edges of their eyes.

"What is your name, inferior navigator?" He asked.

"Faerat, superior captain." Talc gave a cranial incline of recognition, having to work slightly harder to ignore the throbbing pains his left ankle nerves were emitting.

"Faerat, find an able bodied technician and set him to work on the teleporter," Talc stuck a suction-cupped finger in the direction of the blinking machine. "then rouse the remainder of the applicable bridge crew and have them analyze the damage." Faerat nodded, spending several minutes searching the disorderly bridge and eventually succeeding in his task, sending a technician with an angry tear across his suit hobbling towards the bridge's public teleporter. Talc, meanwhile, knelt down to his captain's chair and hissed, much to his personal disappointment. He fumbled a tad in the dimness of the bridge, eventually finding the ship-wide comm attached to his chair, pressing the button to activate it with a lightly shaking finger.

The comm gave a small beep to signify that it was on and Talc spoke into it:

 _"Crew of the Zeta, the bridge is having technical difficulties - do not worry. To any crew members applicable to their stations; any non-essential personnel that are able bodied are to move wounded to the medical wing if at all possible. Any and all essential personnel that are able bodied are to return to their stations."_

He turned the comm off, letting a sigh escape him and then wincing afterward. Talc narrowed his eyes after he winced. With some difficulty, Talc got to his feet; by then Faerat had roused the bridge crew that was able bodied. Each one was at their respective stations, making repairs, rebooting systems, or following Talc's orders to the best of their ability; they all, of course, did this with the utmost efficiency. He felt a rare, small surge of pride as he watched his bridge crew work so diligently in the face of the situation.

Talc turned to see the same technician that Fearat had summoned was fervently - or as fervently as their injuries allowed them to - working on the teleporter with a set of scrounged-up tools at their feet. Talc wondered vaguely if that teleporter could be repaired by the technician. He knew they were incredibly skilled; they wouldn't have been allowed to work on the bridge had they not been. He watched with vague interest as the tech labored; they were clearly struggling. The teleporter was a wreck, with wire jutting out from multiple openings in its metal hull. Normally he would have questioned their skill - and some part of him certainly did - but the circumstance allowed Talc to forgive the tech.

He turned, wincing slightly, at the sound of footsteps behind him; Faerat was walking toward him, ill-disguised worry written across his face. Talc frowned.

"What is it, inferior navigator?" he said sharply. Faerat gulped quietly before responding.

"W-we've picked up another ship on our sensor arrays, Superior Captain." Talc raised a brow.

"Are they friendly?" Faerat shook his head.

"We don't know, Superior Captain." Talc's frown deepened.

"I'm assuming you haven't received any signals from them, then."

"Yes, sir." Talc sighed.

"What is the status of our weapon systems?"

"Poor, sir." Faerat said. "The main battery is inoperable, as are the shields." For a moment, worry flashed in Talc's bulbous eyes.

"Propulsion and Life Support systems?"

"Operable, sir, but only just. The main generator has been damaged and the back-ups are operating at just fifty percent their normal rate." Faerat responded gravely. Talc swore so badly that Faerat had to fight his jaw going slack.

"Is the emergency beacon applicable, inferior navigator?" Faerat blinked.

"Yes, sir. Do you want us to activate it?" Talc nodded, frowning again. Surprised and even more worried than before, Faerat gave Talc a final salute and headed back to his compatriots, all of which were following his every move.

"Activate the emergency beacon." he said when he'd gotten within earshot. His fellow navigators and others stared unabashedly at him. Faerat glared for a moment.

"Activate the beacon!" he hissed. The rest of the navigators nodded, as did the rest of the bridge crew within earshot. One of them, after pulling up a holographic display over their console, pressed a webbed finger lightly to an option labeled above in zetian as: emergency beacon. They pressed the 'Yes' option when the second it appeared and risked a glance back at Talc; their captain stood with his hands clasped behind his back, as straight as he possibly could manage, looking out the main viewport of the _Zeta_.

 _Some day I'm having,_ they thought.

* * *

Fareeha Jercho stood with stereotypical asari straightness. Her hands were interlocked behind her back at the level of her waist; her posture and stance, she knew, only reinforced the belief that asari were polite and formal every second. Fareeha didn't give the thought more than a passing moment of consideration before dismissing it. Getting distracted by such irrelevant thoughts would potentially jeopardize the mission; granted, there wasn't much to jeopardize to begin with.

It was nothing but a remapping of an outlying system near the edge of Council Space, something Fareeha knew was necessary but also knew she found nigh-unbearably tedious. Sitting in her office, sorting through files and reports that never ceased; there was always someone getting injured somehow or something was off kilter and had been repaired. It wasn't that her ship, the _Espial_ , was in badly built or out of date - far from that. It was a completely average Council frigate, up to date in terms tech, but no matter how much her engineers tried, something always, ironically without fail, broke. Usually nothing major, but one never knew. She was a bit too thankful for being able to get out of that place.

"Captain, we're picking up a signal. May I patch it through?" Fareeha's train of thought shattered at that. She nodded curtly after a moment to cover the slight embarrassment she felt. The asari who had asked the question turned their chair to face the console they operated. Within moments, what Fareeha assumed was the beacon the asari had discovered came through.

She didn't understand it at all. The message, if it could at all be called that, was an ungodly mix of screeches and wails. Fareeha cringed, as did every other being in earshot. It went on for at least thirty seconds before it stopped for a moment… only to start up again moments later. The asari technician who had found the signal turned it off hastily, a blush spreading across their teal cheeks. Fareeha frowned.

"You," She said sharply, "what is your name?" The asari in question turned with some meekness towards her superior.

"Tanaya, ma'am."

"Tanaya, can you trace the signal to it's source?" There was a moment of silence as Tanaya spun her chair back to her console with embarrassed urgnecy and began technical work. Fareeha watched as the younger asari pulled up hologram after hologram, blue fingers moving swiftly as she

"I've tracked it to the system we were sent to." Fareeha blinked; that was an awfully convenient happenstance. "Do you want a course plotted for the ship?" After a moment's thought, Fareeha responded. They had interpreters, right?

"Yes."

The tech turned back to her console, imputed several button commands, and Fareeha nodded toward her. There wasn't much of shift in the Bridge's main window, and there was a professional silence for several minutes. When the _Espial_ finally came into real time, Fareeha saw something very peculiar.

It was, she assumed, the ship that was emitting the distress beacon; it was disc-shaped, with a chrome, gleaming hull that reflected much of the system's star light. It was tilted to its left side, and what looked to be an oddly-shaped energy pylon attached to the ship's underside. Fareeha said to the pilot:

"Bring us closer to that ship, pilot." The pilot did as Fareeha asked, shooting a curious glance her way as she immediately turned on her heel after giving the order.

"May I ask where you're going, ma'am?" Fareeha shot a short glance behind her.

"To fetch our interpreters,"

Fareeha hoped that whoever sent the message was peaceful.

* * *

 **AN: Hi. This chapter was actually done a few hours before I posted it. Why it took so long?**

 **... I was programming snake on to my calculator. Oh, and Jontron. Still, I hope it was worth the wait.**

 **Anyway, I don't know what else to say, so... any and all reviews/follows/favs will be duly noted. - Raging Celiac**


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